Who's Your Daddy?
by StrawberryTigress
Summary: Can you guess the parents of these original fan-made characters? Second one-shot, which asks the question: Is it easy to love a lie? Combine tango, lies, obsession, and two characters who can never be Mary-Sues or Gary-Stus, and we get...
1. A Little Brawl of Chocolate

**In order to get some random ideas out of my head and finally start writing more chapters of TRSW, I am writing this story.**

* * *

**In this story, YOU will guess who are the parents of these fan-made characters!**

**The clues are in their personalities, appearances, and actions, and also some TDI campers will make some appearances, but to be evil, I shall not give any first names. Ha! They shall be referred to as "Billy's dad" or "Mr. Johnson." Ha! I'm evil.... **

**If you guys guess correctly, I will write a chapter about whose children you want to read about next!**

**So start guessing! And just to put it out there, I appreciate every character on TDI, so every character will be bashed or made fun of equally.... **

**And remember, if you guess correctly, I will write a chapter about the children of your choice!**

**I wish you luck!**

* * *

"What about the red one?" Stacey asked, gesturing towards the rack of dark red blouses.

The dark-haired girl watched her mother purse her lips in a slightly disapproving way.

_'Or not…,'_ Stacey recanted to herself.

"Stacey, you are running for office, not for cheerleader of the year," her mother answered. "The color red is an attention getter, but it's not the color you will want when you present yourself to the public. You don't want to come as inappropriate off to the public, do you?"

"_Nobody's going to care_…" Stacey mumbled under her breath, but the teen mumbled this especially low, so that her mother would not hear.

After lecturing on the importance of proper appearance for a few moments, Stacey's mother sighed before heading off to search for a more suitable blouse in another clothes rack.

Stacey then sighed a little to herself. She was a disappointment; she knew it. Although her mother had never really said it, Stacey knew that she was a constant disappointment. She just hadn't inherited her mother's drive for success…

"Stacey!" Her mother's words shocked the teenager out of her reverie. "Stacey Ann, _you_ are supposed to be shopping for an appropriate outfit for your acceptance speech. Right now, it seems like I am doing all the shopping while you're just standing there."

"Sorry, Mom," the blue-eyed teen mumbled sheepishly. Of course, it wouldn't matter to her mother that she hadn't actually _won_ the student council secretarial race yet, and to buy an appropriate outfit for an acceptance speech six weeks before the actual voting was to begin was jumping the gun a little. But how could she lose? The competition wasn't all that great, just a bunch of nerds and losers. And she was her mother's daughter after all. Even she had inherited _some_ of her mother's infamous determination to win.

She _was_ her mother's daughter.

Stacey would have pondered this matter more, but she was interrupted by her mother's thrusting a blue designer blouse in her arms and ushering her into one of the fitting rooms.

* * *

"Stacey, what are you doing in there?" Mrs. Hines called out in impatience ten minutes later. The brunette woman stamped her foot and glanced at her cell phone.

'_Darn it!'_ The well-dressed woman hissed to herself. It was already 6:45 PM, and by now she had missed both her 4:15 and 5:45 PM meetings because of this shopping trip with Stacey. With luck she could make that 7:30 meeting. That is, if her sluggish daughter could find an appropriate outfit in an acceptable time.

"Stacey…" Mrs. Hines began.

"Yeah," came a muffled reply from inside the fitting room.

"Could you please put some more hustle into it? I'm going to be late for an important meeting!"

There was no reply to this from inside the fitting room. Mrs. Hines smiled. '_She is so much like her father._" He too didn't respond to her right away when she made him angry—well, not for a short time at least.

Mrs. Hines knew that her daughter wanted to spend more time with her. She knew that Stacey resented all of the messages, and the meetings, and the weeks-long trips across the globe that kept her apart from her mother. It was understandable. Mrs. Hines was a very rational woman. She could sense the sense of loss from her daughter, the stiff anger from her husband as she left every other week for some distant country…

But what they did not understand was the thrill. There was nothing else in the world like the thrill she got. Mrs. Hines found pleasure in engaging in lucrative deals worth billions of dollars and become acquainted with people who could ruin the lives of millions with just a single stroke of a pen… They did not understand the power those people held; the power that she might hold, no wait, WILL hold one day if she just kept pushing… Besides, how else could her husband afford his extensive motorcycle collection? How else could her daughter have gotten that brand new two-seater?

"Be quiet, mother! You are _ruining_ my shopping therapy," a nearby voice barked.

Mrs. Hines was startled for a moment at this voice intruding into her thoughts. Her well-coiffed hair flew temporarily out of place, but she quickly composed herself and took notice of the new mother-daughter couple who just came into view.

The daughter was stunningly beautiful. Her long, brown hair was stunning. Her deep brown eyes were stunning. Even her sparkling white teeth were stunning. She glided into the room as if she was a walking down the runway in Paris. Mrs. Hines could hear the people gasping and trailing after her as she made her way towards the fitting room.

But Mrs. Hines herself wasn't moved. She had experienced these flashy types before.

"But dear, what's so bad about college? You are such a pretty girl, but—"

And then Stacey's mother saw the beautiful girl's mother, and she almost laughed.

The woman was ridiculously short, and the flattering designer clothes she was wearing couldn't completely hide a rather dumpy figure. Her hair was exactly the same color as her daughter's, but hers seemed to be more lifeless and dull. The woman's face was hidden by a combination of dark huge glasses and an enormous pile of clothes. Apparently her daughter was using her as a human clothes basket while she shopped. The two stood by side by side: the gorgeous and the homely. Mrs. Hines found it hard to believe that they were actually mother and daughter.

"You are ruining my shopping therapy!" the daughter hissed. "Please, mother. Can you not nag for once?"

"B-but…" the short woman stammered.

Strangely, Mrs. Hines shuddered, as if a ghost from long ago had stepped out of the past and touched her shoulder. There was something familiar about the woman's voice. It made her think of memories she had long forgotten. Memories of a lake, and spinning fire, and most particularly the devious smirk her husband used to have--no wait--one he still had…

"_Was she one of my husband's co-workers?_" Mrs. Hines pondered as she leaned a bit to study the short woman's face. But the woman's face was shadowed by a combination of the glasses and the clothes, and the brown-haired woman could not see her face.

"Ugh!" the daughter moaned. Then she turned to a nearby mirror used by customers to judge how well they looked in outfits and made a face. "Look," she said. "You have made me frown, mother. I'll probably wrinkle early now, but that's what you want, isn't it?"

"No, Lin, that's not what I want," the small woman said a bit more forcefully.

However, the beautiful Lin was tired of the whole argument, and snatched the topmost article of clothing out of the stack in her mother's arms and headed towards the fitting rooms.

But a fitting door opened and out stepped a sour-looking Stacey, squeezed tightly into a small blue blouse. Before she had thrust that blouse into her daughter's unwilling arms, Mrs. Hines hadn't personally picked out a single article of clothing for her daughter in three years. Apparently, her daughter had grown since then.

The two daughters were face-to-face for a moment: attractive Lin in a sleek black jacket and jeans and sour-looking Stacy in a too small blouse whose buttons were threatening to pop. Then Lin harrumphed and sucked her teeth and slammed the door of the nearest fitting room extra loudly.

Mrs. Hines could take Lin's insulting her own mother—it was almost shamefully funny, really--, but nobody sucks their teeth at _her_ daughter and gets away with it. Wait until she found out exactly who this girl was, she'd make her life a living hell… But she needed to give the mother a straight talking to first.

"Look, you need to start teaching your daughter some manners before some of us—" Mrs. Hines began before she noticed that Lin's mother had apparently already disappeared.

"Um, Mom," Stacey interrupted. "If you haven't noticed, this blouse is way too small."

"Yeah, yeah, so go and pull it off," Mrs. Hines said absentmindedly as she checked her watch. 7:03, if she left now, she'd just be a little late. If only Stacey would hurry up, she can go.

"I wore this size in seventh grade, Mom." Stacey said softly. The blue-eyed teen really wanted to say, "_You don't know what size I am. You don't know my favorite color. You don't know my boyfriend's name… You don't know that I hate the color blue after I broke my leg falling out of the Masons' huge blue tree house out back. You were gone all those times! You were gone on your business trips, sucking up to the big, fat, rich people of the world! You weren't there when Muffy died. You are never there for me!! Dad was always there_!" But mostly she wanted her mother to realize the pain she felt.

It was her father's idea that her mother and she go shopping. Stacey hadn't seen or talked to her mother in a month and didn't really want to see her at all, but somehow her dad talked her into it---with a little _persuasion _of course.

"Sure you did sweetheart," Mrs. Hines said as her phone rang. The brown-haired woman answered it in a flash. "Charlotte…" she answered with a smile. "No, no, I sent the agenda to your inbox already…"

Stacey wanted to snatch that cell phone out of her mother's hand and crush it underneath her foot, but she hesitated.

"_It's not worth it_," the dark-haired teenager thought. She turned around and walked back to her fitting room and closed the door.

* * *

Lin turned around and around, admiring her fantastic body through the clear glass mirror on the wall of the fitting room. The brunette girl giggled. Now this was exactly what she needed: a little shopping therapy.

Lin aspired to be a professional model. Photographers praised her hair, they blessed her bone structure, and they swore by her deep brown eyes. She would have taken the modeling world by storm years ago if her mother wasn't so stubborn about her getting an education. Education was for regular people. As long as Lin had this face and this body, she could make a million dollars just by smiling at the camera. Her would-be livelihood was herself.

The beautiful would-be model heard the door of the stall beside her slam shut. She heard only one small sniff come from the girl suffering next door.

"_Poor girl_," Lin thought. "_It's not good to cry…" _Goodness knows that Lin herself had had a great deal to cry about that day. Her heart briefly went out to the unknown girl next door.

A loud thump could be heard next door. The too-small blue blouse was ripped off with such force that Lin winced.

"_Now you can't treat the garment roughly because you were too fat to fit it..."_ Lin frowned to herself, before she immediately became frightened about the possibility of a wrinkle. Her sympathy for Stacey was extremely short-lived. As always, her attentions returned unto herself.

Then something caught the aspiring model's beautiful eye. It was the bright shine of a candy wrapper. Lin stared at it. Judging from the wrapper, the candy appeared to be chocolate.

Lin hadn't eaten chocolate since she was twelve years old. Chocolate, they said, could make her fat, rot her teeth, give her zits... Chocolate was out of the question if she was truly determined to model.

Her stomach rumbled noisily. She stared at the chocolate candy. It was only one piece....

"_It's only one piece,"_ Lin thought. "_One piece wouldn't hurt."_ Lin didn't know where that chocolate came from, or how long it had been on the floor, or from which direction it could have rolled from, but at that moment, she did not care. Today, just hours earlier, Lin had lost her father's once rock-hard support.

Lin's father was the most important person in her life. He was the one who was the most supportive of her modeling career. It seemed like her mother was convincing everyone that college was more important. But Lin knew the real reason why her mother was doing this, and it wasn't about college at all. It was because her mother was jealous of her. Everyone knew that her mother wasn't beautiful in her teenage years. Her mother was dull and unpopular, and Lin was beautiful and stunning. Everyone wanted to be her friend. Of course, they would. And her mother had never had that experience, and now, years later, she is hating her daughter for being what she is. Absolutely gorgeous... And her mother had said that the industry was transforming her into a nasty person. Ha! Whatever. Lin had argued against that. But then, unexpectedly, her father agreed with her mother on this. And Lin was crushed.... Her father had left her side. He had betrayed her.... He wasn't on her team anymore. _She_ had taken him.

Afterwards, the beautiful girl had had a tantrum in her beautiful room and had risked her lovely face from puffiness and early aging from all the tears she shed. But not once did her father reconsider.

So Lin didn't care anymore. She didn't care about anything anymore. And that was why she bent down and reached for that chocolate bar, only to find that she wasn't alone. The girl next door, Stacey, was reaching for it too. Her arm was visible in the small gap between the fitting rooms' wall and the floor. Frightened that Stacey would get it first, Lin grabbed it before Stacey's black fingernails could reach.

"What the hell? What are doing with my candy bar?" Stacey growled. She really didn't need this kind of crap right now. Right now the dark-haired teen only wanted to go home, punch all the fluff out of her pillow, and reflect about how unfair life really was.

"I found it," Lin replied tersely and clutched the chocolate closer to her body as if she was a mother protecting her child.

"It's mine," Stacey said simply, trying to hold back some of her frustration. Her mother once told her that it was best to talk through a difficult situation… But Stacey didn't want to think about her mother at the moment. "It's my last Choc-ola, and it fell out of my pocket when I was changing my shirt."

"How do I know that's true?" Lin asked suspiciously. In all honesty, the model didn't care if the chocolate bar belonged to Stacey or to the Emperor of China. She was not giving it up. Right now, the beautiful girl needed something to fill a newly gaping hole in her life (with this, Lin nearly started crying over her father again), and right now this chocolate was the (temporary) fix. There was no way she was giving it up.

"J-just go away! Screw you, you freak!" Lin cried. It wasn't like that girl couldn't buy herself another candy bar. Jeeze!

"Look, you—" Stacey snapped, suddenly losing her patience with this loon in the next room. She was not going to take anymore crap from anyone today. She was already taking crap from her mother by not saying what she felt, taking crap from her father by being where she doesn't want to be, and taking crap from her school, and from her "friends," and---

"It's _Lindsay_, not _you_," Lin replied smugly. She had the candy bar, and this girl did not. The model felt a small wave of satisfaction. At least she had won something that day. Her mother had won the support of her father, but at least she had won something that day. And there was no way anyone can take this from her…

But Stacey had had enough. The pressure of that day seemed to descend upon her conscious all at once: her disappointment with her mother, her anger, the pressure to constantly be the best, to conform to what was expected of her, and now this idiot's toying with her. Stacey could let all of these things go, but not this one. All of the pressures in her life seemed to be suddenly rolled up into one, and it could all be released….if she just beat the crap of the stuck-up girl next door.

This girl is now the stand-in for her bedroom pillow.

And so Lin, or rather _Lindsay_, never could have expected the foot smashing through the fitting room wall just as she finished her last, delicious bite.

The gorgeous young woman screamed.

* * *

And so Stacey's mother never made it to her 7:30 meeting.

* * *

**And can you guess who are the parents of Stacey and the parents of Lindsay? I think I made this one too easy. Ah, well. And remember, if you get it right, I'll write a story about your choice! So please come up with some different choices. I enjoy not writing about the norm, so think!**

**And if you want to use these, or any other characters, in one of your stories, just PM me. **


	2. Dancing Dirty

**Hi, everybody! I'm back again!**

**Thanks to all those who guessed last week, and special congratulations to that one reviewer who won and gets his or her specific couple's kid written about in this story! **

**The last story's answers are Duncan and Courtney and Justin and Beth!**

**Can you guess the parents of these two fan-made characters? **

**Who are the parents of Ethan? And who are the parents of Melinda?**

**Have fun guessing, and I hope you have luck!**

* * *

Ethan tapped his fingers on the wooden banister in impatience.

"_Steve, when will you learn that you need to leave early to arrive anywhere on time in a city with more than 3 million people?_" the brown-haired teen sighed to himself. It was 8:07. Ethan's dance class always ended at 8 pm, and Steve, Ethan's limo driver, always arrived around 8:45 to pick him up. After two months, Ethan thought that the burly blond man would have learned to arrive on time.

Ethan could have told his mother about the constant tardiness and stuck around to watch his mother crucify the limo driver and his future in the limousine driving business, but nah…

Ethan kinda liked the guy.

His mother had always told him that he was too soft-hearted.

Ethan then turned and looked around the room. He saw his usual dancing partner Jennifer and her shiny haired cronies gossiping in a corner. Jennifer saw his look and sent a smile his way, but Ethan had already turned his head. He saw his thin, balding dancing instructor showing a couple of young girls how to perform a proper arabesque. One red-haired girl kept falling over.

"_Looks like somebody needs a new hobby_," the handsome brunet smirked to himself, watching the girl's legs tremble while she tried to keep her balance.

And lastly, Ethan saw _her_, Melanie, or Melody, or whatever her name was; still dancing in her own little world even after class was done for the day. Even after a year of attending the same dance class, Ethan never actually learned her real name, and neither did he care. He had another forty pages of Black Maria to read, and it was all for his personal enjoyment.

Just then, Ethan's phone vibrated. The slim, handsome teen looked down. It was Steve, and at 8:14, too.

"_And with a little more than thirty minutes to spare,_" Ethan thought. "_Jeeze. It takes him an eternity, but even dropouts like Steve can learn._" And with that, the gray-eyed boy left the building.

* * *

Minutes later, a small, warm hand touched the spot where Ethan's fingers had been. It seemed to linger there for a moment, soaking up whatever presence the handsome teenager had left.

A small smile formed on full lips. These luscious lips belonged to a Melinda (not to a Melanie or a Melody), and this Melinda just so happened to have a crush.

It had started when Ethan had first come to class. Melinda had been taken aback by the dark gray eyes, the casually tossed hair, the wiry, lithe figure (He was a natural in ballet). And he was not so tall, but still dark, and handsome, and so utterly desirable that Melinda had almost tripped over herself at that first practice, and she had been dancing for years…

And it had only grown worse. Melinda started to sneak longing looks at his wonderful face. She wondered how his eyes could possibly be so gray; was it a natural color? How could his hair get to be that perfect shade of brown and still able to be so perfectly styled? Melinda started to look forward to dance class, not only because she loved to dance, but because Ethan would be there. She found herself disappointed whenever he couldn't make it. Melinda even named her pet gerbil Ethan the Second. In school, she found herself daydreaming about their first date...

But she found that she could not go up to Ethan and confess how she felt. How could she? It wasn't as if she was stunningly beautiful or extremely interesting, and the things Melinda was interested in, no one cared about. Melinda's worst fear was that he would reject her, and even worse, reject her without a moment's hesitation. Everyone knew about his acid tongue; it would be horrible. Melinda would just have to wait for the perfect chance to tell him how she felt and hope for the best.

As the Melinda looked up, she saw something that may well turn out to be her perfect chance. It was now or never. Now was the chance to get what she wanted.

Melinda wondered how well she could pull this off.

* * *

The atmosphere of the next class was full of nervous excitement. Standing with crossed arms in a particularly empty corner of the room, Ethan looked around in slight interest at the others. Some of the girls were whispering excitedly with each other while most of the boys were avoiding each other's eyes. But mostly everyone else was waiting in breathless anticipation. Even the younger classes were silent, looking at the older students from a distance with awe because _there was going to be a competition_.

There was going to be a competition, and only two people were allowed in it: just two people to dance the tango. Another class would be chosen for the waltz part of the competition, and everyone could hear that other class in the next room, talking excitedly.

The only problem was that there were twenty potential dancers in this class but only two open spots. The selection process was going to be brutal.

Suddenly, all whispers ceased, and the crowd waited with bated breath as the dance instructor, Mr. DuBois strolled into the room, his presence poised for he knows what is going to happen next—

"MR. DUBOIS, HOW ARE YOU--?" the crowd blurted out, unable to wait much longer.

"Take your positions," DuBois interrupted calmly. "We are starting with a tango." The thin man clapped his hands, and some music began to play.

American style tango was child's play to Ethan although he had to deal with a bumbling Jennifer, who immediately rushed to his side after the music began.

"We are so going to beat all of these other losers here, right Ethan?" Jennifer smiled. Her white teeth nearly blinded him as the two began to dance, falling into figure perfectly.

"Just keep dancing, Sunshine," Ethan replied flatly, as he spun the little blonde, and their heads snapped together. "And your arm styling is off, catch up with the beat."

The blonde frowned a little at Ethan's snide little comment, but she then grinned fiercely and her arm movements quickly caught up. She was dancing with the best after all, even if he had the attitude of a stuck up little prick.

Little by little, DuBois made his way around the dancing couples, studying each and every one of their movements. This was going to be competition that will make him a household name amongst dancers in the city. No longer would he be DuBois on the corner of Wincott and The Westway, but _**DuBois**_. (That one word, exhaled in a breath of pure admiration, would describe it all.) He needed to choose the best among these talented amateurs in order to achieve the dream of _**DuBois: the Instructor of Winners**_, and every so often, the balding man would touch the shoulder of a pair of dancers, and the pair would unhappily leave the floor.

Ethan was not able to look around at the others, so intently he was concentrating on his movements. He led his partner effortlessly. Their bodies danced to the quick, graceful movements of the tango. Nevertheless, the brunet could feel the dance flooring being emptied. Neither his nor Jennifer's shoulders had been tapped yet, and that was expected of course. They were the best.

"Ethan!" Jennifer hissed anxiously as he dropped her body, and the only thing stopping her from hitting the floor was his single arm. "Ethan, look! Look at them..."

Annoyed and biting back a sarcastic remark, Ethan turned his head slightly and looked.

And that was when Ethan discovered what everyone else was looking too.

* * *

Melinda was on fire.

Her hair, which was out of its customary ponytail for once, was flying wildly around her. Her movements were like lightning on the dance floor. Her partner for today, Brandon Caldwell, couldn't hope to keep up with her, but still he very admirably tried.

On one level of her mind, Melinda was aware of everyone watching her. She could see the amazed faces of the people looking on, and a small part of her noted with satisfaction the nasty look that the blonde dancing with Ethan would give her every once in a while. But her whole body gave a jolt when Ethan turned to look at her himself.

In those stormy eyes, Melinda found that she could melt.

After five minutes, Ethan and Jennifer and Melinda and Brandon were the only couples left on the dancing room floor. Ten minutes later, those same two couples were still there, and that was when DuBois told them both to stop.

"I will need some time to decide" was all DuBois answered when the crowd pressed him about which couple he had chosen. It was clear to see that both couples were equally matched. Any decision DuBois was going to make would be difficult.

Fifteen minutes after that, Melinda found herself in front of the bathroom mirror, splashing her face with water. She had done better than she could have ever possibly imagined. She, Melinda, could be dancing in the competition of the year! She would actually have the chance to dance with Ethan, and… But then, she remembered. Ethan would be dancing with Jennifer—even if they were chosen in the end--, and she would have to dance with…

Just then, the bathroom door slammed, and a face appeared beside her.

"_Well, speak of the devil_," Melinda smirked to herself. "_Literally._"

"You did very well out there," Jennifer complimented in a voice that clearly meant the opposite. "I was surprised."

Melinda said nothing to this. Instead, she calmly took out her mascara and started applying it around her almond brown eyes.

Jennifer went on, taking Melinda's silence as the brunette's way of listening. "But as good as you were, you know that only one couple will be chosen, right?"

Melinda paused. "Yeah…"

Jennifer grinned. "Well, I was just giving you a heads up."

"A heads up about what?" Melinda said slowly. She knew, of course, what the blonde meant, but she couldn't believe that Jennifer would have the gall to say it to her.

"A heads up that you and your partner should quit while you are ahead. You know neither of you can stand up to Ethan and I in any kind of contest."

Melinda flushed a slight pink. The blonde standing next to her thought it was out of embarrassment, but in reality Melinda had blushed out of fury. Who was this airhead to tell her that she was inferior in anything? And so the next words that came out of Melinda's mouth were scathing.

"But I thought we did just stand up to you in any kind of contest." The brunette blurted out.

Instantly the atmosphere in the room had gotten colder at least by forty degrees---forty degrees Celsius, that is.

"You're not as smart as you think, you know," Jennifer spat viciously.

Melinda chose to ignore this. _Let her think what she wants, _Melinda thought.

"You're not so good at hiding your emotions, you know. I've seen the way you look at him," the blonde continued as her voice dropped to something more scathing, more vicious...

"It's obvious that you like him."

In shock, Melinda dropped her mascara. It rolled and made a smudge of black mess upon the floor. The word "him" didn't need to be defined. Both girls knew who "he" was.

* * *

Ethan was waiting for Brandon Caldwell just outside of the men's bathrooms. His slow-witted cronies, Terrance and Phillip, were beside him, cracking their knuckles. The only reason why those two were in any dance class was that their wealthy parents had wanted some measure of civility to soak into their heads. So far they had been unsuccessful. Ethan really didn't want to do this, but he had no choice really. His mother, who used to be a ballerina herself, wanted him to be in the competition, and so in the competition he shall be. Ethan would have appealed to his father, but the latter was out of the country at some convention in Geneva. Ethan had wanted to go with him.

Soon, Ethan saw the brown curly head of Brandon open the bathroom door, and predictably just moments later, the thick muscular arm of Terrance blocked the boy's path.

Ethan saw the boy's blue eyes widen in fear as he looked at the huge teen baring down at him, and Ethan almost felt sorry for him. Well, _almost_.

"Nice job out there, Caldwell," Ethan said smoothly. To be honest, he really didn't enjoy doing this.

"Th-thanks…" Brandon Caldwell stuttered. Ethan knew that the kid knew what going to happen.

Ethan smiled; his gray eyes were merciless for the time being. He was letting the kid sweat for a minute. "You're welcome--" the handsome brunet began before being interrupted by a frightened Brandon.

"Please! Please! I swear you can take my spot! I quit! I qui-!" Brandon burst out before Phillip gave him a hard punch in the stomach.

"Did the boss ask you to speak, Caldwell?" Phillip whispered. Brandon tried to answer, but he couldn't breathe at the moment.

"That's enough, Phillip," Ethan snapped sharply. "He says he's going to back out of the competition. That's all we wanted." Ethan then bent down until he was level with Brandon's reddened face. The gray-eyed teen reached into his pocket, and Brandon flinched.

"Here," Ethan said tersely, holding out a hundred dollar bill. "You've earned it." Ethan let the dollar go, and it drifted onto Brandon's heaving chest. Looking down at Brandon gasping on the ground, Ethan was suddenly disgusted at himself, but still the job was done.

Twenty minutes later, the brunet was sitting by himself in the foyer when he felt a certain blonde sit down beside him.

"Did you get the girl?" Ethan asked.

"Easy as pie," Jennifer answered in his ear. Ethan flinched.

"Hey, Jennifer!" one of the blonde's tag-alongs called out!

"What?" Jennifer answered, clearly annoyed.

"You left your purse in the bathroom. Terry's found it for you!"

Jennifer sighed heavily and got up from the bench. Ethan rolled his eyes and checked his phone. It was 8:23, and a text from Steve.

It seems that Steve was finally outside. Ethan stood up to leave.

Bye, bye, Brandon and what's-her-face....

* * *

If everyone had only known that the girl with the brown hair and the sharp, pretty face who was called Melinda had come from a line of people who perfected the art of revenge, no one would have been surprised when she showed up promptly at the next practice and Jennifer Alls didn't. Brandon Caldwell didn't show up either, but everyone had expected that.

And so everyone was surprised when Melinda showed up, and Jennifer did not. And what was even stranger was that Jennifer could not be contacted. In fact, the blonde didn't even answer the numerous calls and text messages her friends sent her.

DuBois was also confused. Two finalists showed up, and two finalists were missing. The poor man didn't know what to do for a moment. He tried to hide the stress, but he still could be seen biting his lower lip.

Melinda stood coolly and watched the others. Jennifer's friends were in a tight, nervous little ball and discussing where Jennifer could be. The rest of the girls, Melinda saw, could care less. Most of the boys were trying to make conversation about anything other than dance class. But Melinda noted with approval that Ethan seemed the least confused out of the lot of them. That made her like him more.

Melinda knew what she must do.

"Mr. DuBois?" the brunette asked suddenly. Everyone turned their heads towards her in surprise.

"Why don't Ethan and I dance together since Jennifer and Brandon aren't here to participate?"

Melinda saw DuBois raised his head suddenly and a small smile broke across his face.

Melinda: 2, Jennifer: negative infinity. Melinda has pwned…

* * *

Ethan disliked her.

The handsome teen could find no real reason to dislike her; he just _did_. There was something about Melinda that made him wince. Her clothes, he noted, screamed mall-rat. There was a green smudge underneath her thumb that made him want to gag. Her hair was like an anime heroine's—the bangs and the ponytail were _that_ outlandish. It could have been interesting as Ethan had an interest in anime, but it was her eyes that done her in. Her eyes were the worst; big and brown and so full of soul that Ethan wanted to look away. And she was constantly staring at him.

Her eyes were almost loving, and that made Ethan feel guilty for what had he done to have him to ever be loved? He had done much more to have him be hated.

On the upside, Melinda was a marvelous dancer. He found that he could say not one negative remark to her which was an absolute first. That fact alone almost scared him.

Every time Ethan danced with her, it was like he was sentenced to his own private Hell.

* * *

Melinda was in Heaven.

She was in one of her dreams except only that this was real life. Over and over again, practice after practice, Melinda found herself in Ethan's arms, just a fraction of an inch from his warm body, just a centimeter from his lips…

It didn't matter that the two hadn't had a single meaningful conversation yet besides the usual things that dancing partners needed to say to one another. It would happen. Melinda was patient, and she could wait.

In fact, all was going well for Melinda (or so she thought) until Brandon Caldwell came back.

Melinda saw him come in; his curly head was down so no one would notice him. Too late. Everyone had already spotted him and had started to whisper amongst themselves. Despite enjoying every second of her dancing with Ethan, Melinda felt a bit angry at Brandon. After all, Brandon did not show up for that important practice, and if Jennifer had tried her luck and had arrived at practice that day, Melinda herself would have been out of the competition. Melinda had to ask him why. _Why would he leave her hanging like that? _

Ignoring all the eyes watching her, Melinda stormed over to where the hapless Brandon was standing.

"Why didn't you show up to practice two weeks ago?" Melinda hissed. The ponytailed girl was angry, and she did not try to hide what fury she felt.

"I don't want to talk about it," Brandon replied flatly.

"You'd better talk about it!" Melinda yelled, and she made no attempt to hide her voice from the eager crowd.

"Shh!" Brandon shushed as he stole a frightened glance at Ethan, who was watching the teen from the other side of the room and who gave him a small shake of the head. Brandon knew what that meant: _Don't talk._

"Do you want to get me in trouble?" Brandon cried.

Melinda frowned. It was clear that she wasn't going to accept not getting an answer from him. Brandon sighed.

"Okay, meet me beside the men's bathroom after practice is over--"

"Why the hush-hush?" Melinda began before being cut off the nervous Brandon.

"Just—do it!" Brandon hissed before getting the heck outta there before Ethan, Terrance, or Phillip gave him any more looks.

* * *

It was 8:23. Practice had ended, but was Steve out there waiting for him?

No, of course not. Ethan sighed. _Figures_.

Today was the last practice before the night of the competition. He and Mel had danced beautifully. He had started to call her Mel in his thoughts for about two practices now. Ethan didn't know why; it's just that she felt like a "Mel" to him, and her name was Melinda after all. It wasn't a big leap from Melinda to Mel, but still, this bothered him greatly.

Ethan had become _used_ to her. He could tolerate the hair and the clothes now, but her eyes still made his heart give an uncomfortable twinge every now and then. Melinda was a highly uncomfortable person to be around. She was much too sweet, and he was way too bitter. Her very presence was starting to cloud his once ordered mind, and the handsome brunet was glad that the night of the competition was so soon. He needed to get away from all this, and fast. He needed to curl up to a good book and be alone and become the Ethan he once was.

Ethan was so deep in his thoughts that he never saw the body that was on a collision course with him until it was almost too late.

"Mel!" Ethan exclaimed out of surprise. Then he wanted to kick himself. The brunette should never had heard that nickname come out of his stupid mouth.

* * *

"Um, Ethan..."

Melinda was stunned. This couldn't be the same person who Brandon claimed had bribed (and beaten) him out of the competition, and was still telling him to keep his mouth shut. This person called her Mel. This person was actually standing there and looked a little concerned for her well-being. His gray eyes weren't so cold. Brandon couldn't be right, could he?

"So, I guess you're going home?" Ethan recovered. The teen wanted to put his whole awkward "Mel" outburst as far behind as possible.

"Yeah," Melinda giggled. "I'm going home. I drive, you know." Melinda held up a ring full of keys and a few odd knicknacks. Ethan stared at them.

"Who has George Lucas' head as a keychain ornament?" The brunet teen smirked.

Melinda blushed a slight pink again. _She was a huge fan, what could she say to that? _There was a uncomfortable silence.

"So, um, you drive too?" Melinda countered in an attempt to simulate conversation again.

"No," Ethan replied. "I don't. I have a personal driver." A driver w_ho is always late_, he added in his thoughts.

"If you don't mind me asking, isn't he kind of late? Isn't it about 8:30 already?" Melinda asked cautiously. The brunette tried to imagine Ethan threatening a frightened Brandon in her head, as Brandon had told her, but she couldn't. What she percieved as his good qualities got in the way.

"As a matter of fact, I do mind _your_ asking," Ethan snapped. "It's none of your business."

_Why is she constantly asking stupid questions?_ Ethan cried out to himself.

"Oh, well, um... I was going to ask if you needed a ride home," Melinda replied in a small voice.

_Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Why did you ask him that? _Melinda cursed to herself.

Ethan groaned. She was making him feel uncomfortable again. She was making him feel guilty just by looking at her clearly disappointed face. Her pretty little face all disappointed... God, he's going to try to cheer her up. Ethan could feel it. He is actually going to try to cheer her up. Damn. Why does he _care_?

"That was very thoughtful of you," Ethan sighed.

_What is happening to me? _The brunet asked himself.

"You're welcome," Melinda answered flatly, and started to walk out the front doors of the dance studio.

"Wait!" Ethan yelled, and he grabbed Melinda's shoulder to stop her from leaving. "Wait. I didn't turn down that ride."

Melinda could barely breathe. She noticed the closeness between their bodies; the warmth of his hand still resting on her shoulder.

_Quick! Say something, idiot!_ Melinda screamed to herself. _Say something before he thinks you're some weirdo or something!_

"Um, ok.." And that was all Melinda could say at the moment.

Ethan smiled. "So, let me get this straight. You just take random strangers home whenever you feel generous, right?"

"Sometimes..." Melinda giggled. Surely, there was no one happier in a hundred mile radius as Melinda was at that moment.

"Random strangers....." Ethan raised an intelligent eyebrow. "You can't tell me that you feel safe doing this for a total stranger. There are some crazies out there."

Melinda frowned and took an aggressive stance. "I can take care of myself, you know."

Ethan laughed. "So what? Next you're going to tell me that you know jujutsu?" The handsome teen shook his head.

Melinda only answered with a broad grin. The Brandon incident was already nearly forgotten.

* * *

On the day of the competition, Jennifer Alls stopped by to pay Ethan a visit.

Ethan was only too happy to oblige her. Even he had caught some of the curiousity over her recent disappearance, for Jennifer not only had stopped coming to dance class, but also to important parties and such. That was unheard of for people in their certain circle of society. It was as if she had dropped off the face of the earth.

So, there they sat, deep inside the many walls of the exquisite mansion belonging to Ethan's parents. Jennifer sat, as poised as always, but Ethan couldn't help but notice the large shawl and sunglasses covering Jennifer's face. The blonde seemed to notice Ethan's curiousity at the items hiding her face from view. She sighed heavily, and ripped off the shawl and sunglasses to reveal----

"SWEET MOTHER OF --" Ethan exclaimed before Jennifer rushed forward and put her hand over his mouth.

"Shh!" Jennifer hissed. "Do you want your maids to find out and start spreading it around?"

Ethan didn't answer. His mouth was still uncharacteristically open. He tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. The gray-eyed teen was still apparently shocked. And the teen had good reason to be shocked, for Jennifer's face was GREEN.

Jennifer's face was slightly, but noticeably green. Not like the Wicked Witch of the West's, but still very unnerving...

"Oh, Ethan!" the blonde cried, throwing her arms around Ethan's neck, almost strangling him while he tried to pull her off. Eventually, he succeeded. "It's been horrible! I look like some kind of monster plant or something!"

"So..." Ethan began, as if the two were talking about a common day at the park. "How did your face end up green?" In truth, Ethan wanted to laugh his guts out, and he was very close to doing so now that the shock was gone.

"It was in my facial moisturizer," Jennifer answered stiffly. "Someone put it in my facial moisturizer." The blonde turned her head and sniffed loudly.

"And I suppose this 'it' means some kind of dye, and you want me to find this 'someone'?" Ethan elaborated calmly. Of course, he knew that Jennifer didn't make the grueling twenty minute, air-conditioned, patent-leather seated ride over to his residence just to get some things off her chest. She wanted someone found--and punished. And that person was going to get something worse than a green face.

"Well, you do have certain talents, Ethan. You find out things," Jennifer stated. "You can find out who did this, and well, you can send Terrance or Phillip or someone to...you know... And I can make it worth your while." The blonde gave a funny little "come-hither" look that was absolutely ridiculous with her green skin.

Ethan couldn't help it. He laughed in her face.

Jennifer frowned, but continued anyway. "Anyway, just to let you know, my moisturizer is always kept in my purse, and my purse never leaves my sight, but there was that night at Timothy's party and--"

Ethan let her prattle on and on about where she might have left her purse unattended (everywhere), and all the people who may have had a grudge against her who was maybe present at these places (half of Canada). But Ethan had already discovered who the culprit was. Jennifer was always very irresponsible with her belongings. The blonde left her purse everywhere, particularly in bathrooms for hanger-ons like Terry Fullman to retrieve them. And Jennifer left her purse in a bathroom where one person is confirmed to be at the time. This person would have had access to Jennifer's purse in those few minutes before Terry Fullman walked in, and this person would have to have had motive. The motive was a dance competition, and those few minutes the culprit was in the bathroom alone with Jennifer's purse and moisturizer was more than enough to get the job done. Plus, the green smudge on her little finger matched the green tint on Jennifer's face.

Ethan had a Mel to question.

Ethan, of course, saw her later that day at the competition. He tried to ignore how the slinky red dress (which was made for tango) complimented her figure, how she had tried to convince him to meet her parents who were in the crowd, how she giggled with excitement. Instead, Ethan tried to picture her as a person who could maliciously dye someone's face green. But deep down, Ethan found the whole green face incident funny, and so that picture didn't stick. In the end, Ethan imagined her as an Oscar-winning actress. She could fool even the most discerning of people into believing she was something sweet and innocent, when in reality she was.... And he had almost gotten fooled. Duped. Duped by a girl who wore split-ends like it was fashion... And she had made him feel guilty....when all along she was guilty herself. Ethan could have slapped hiimself. He should have known better.

However, another part of Ethan wanted to congratulate her. She had fooled him. **She** had fooled **him**. As much as the teen didn't want to admit it, that kind of skill deserved some kind of recognition.

"Hey, Ethan!" a nearby voice called out.

The handsome brunet turned around only to find Melinda grinning up at him.

"Ethan!" Melinda smiled. "We're next after those two couples! Aren't you excited?" Ethan could see that she was positively glowing with excitement, and wondered whether the excitement was real or just one big act.

Ethan just nodded. All he wanted to do was get through this one dance and never see Melinda or even DuBois again. He wanted to return to being the same cold Ethan that he was before this incident, before he had came to DuBois' dance class and before he had ever come to know and fall for a girl called Mel...

Unexpectedly, Melinda reached out and grabbed his hand as if to steady herself. Ethan was surprised for a moment by the human contact. Her brown eyes looked up at him innocently, expectantly, and Ethan found that he couldn't take looking into them anymore. He had to know the truth, and it was better to cut the bull and get straight down to the marrow.

"Why did you put dye in Jennifer Alls' facial moisturizer in the bathroom that day?" Ethan questioned.

"What?" Melinda asked, but Ethan was sure that she heard perfectly. In fact, he was more than sure.

"I asked why," Ethan repeated, releasing her hand and stepping backwards to put some distance between them.

He watched as Melinda wrung her hands together. At least she wasn't denying it. Ethan had been prepared for that. She bit at her lower lip, and fidgetted slightly. Whatever she had to say seemed to affect her a great deal. Ethan waited patiently. Even now, it was ironic that even at her possible worst, Mel still captured him. The old Ethan wouldn't have waited for anything she had to say, but this Ethan would stick around for some time at least. Oh, how low had he fallen...

Finally, the brunette gave a sigh and looked up. Melinda took a deep breath as if she was a little girl who was about to read her private diary out to the public. And in a way, she was.

"She told me that I would never ever had the chance to dance with you," Melinda whispered so low that Ethan could just barely hear. "She knew that I liked you. I had liked you since the very beginning when I first saw you. I just didn't know how to tell you. And she told me that I'd never have a chance with you." Melinda sighed. "I wanted to show her. I wanted to prove her wrong."

Then she sadly lifted her brown eyes and smiled. "I did prove her wrong."

Against his better judgment, Ethan smiled with her. "I suppose you did prove her wrong..... but why go the green dye way?"

"I had to make sure she wasn't going to come back for a while," Melinda admitted. "She said I couldn't dance with you, and I wanted to prove to her that I could, and to do that I needed her gone. And besides..." The brunette looked up into his face, lovingly. "I've always wanted to dance with you. The green dye was my little brother's science fair project. Some of it spilled on him, and for a month, his right arm was a like a celery stick. Eventually, the color does go away though---when your skin starts peeling..."

Ethan didn't ask why she was carrying around a small boy's failed science fair project that day. He just thought of how Jennifer Alls' face would look once she started to peel. The brunet laughed.

"You are a very dangerous woman when you want to be, Melinda," the teenager commented.

"You too...." Melinda smirked, and Ethan immediately knew what she had meant. The Brandon thing. Too bad she didn't know about all the other people Ethan had screwed over in a similar way, or she would have added a "dangerous" and a "very, very."

"We make some pair, you and I," Ethan remarked casually, slowly sliding his arm around her waist as the world outside went on about some stupid little dance competition that really meant nothing to the two teenagers now. In response, Melinda sighed and partially snugged up to his warmth.

To the casual observer, they would have looked like the average teenage couple.

Oh, how wrong that casual observer would be.

* * *

**Now who are Ethan's and Melinda's parents? Guess correctly, and your choice will be made into my next story! And remember, just PM me if you want to use any character from these one-shots! Thanks!**


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